Chapter 12
Montgomery
A beautiful scar.
As I stood with one hand holding the goddamn cane and another wrapped around a mug of coffee, I stared at the mountains in the background. My French flower had used the words. The girl was either blind or simply trying to make me feel better about my ridiculous state.
Nice try, but she didn’t understand that until I captured the motherfucker who’d pulled the trigger and had spent countless hours cutting the fucking man’s face to ribbons, I wouldn’t feel satisfied.
Or whole again.
If that was possible.
My rage wasn’t only centered on the injury, but the act itself.
Someone had dared come into my world. No, that wasn’t the reason either.
The truth was that I’d been caught off guard.
That had never happened before. Attempts had been made on my life a half dozen times and I’d easily sensed the danger.
Where the fuck had my mind been at that point? I had no clue.
Why? Because on top of the time needed to heal, memories of the event itself had all but been erased. The event was hazy. A jogger passing by, but I’d caught a quick look at his features.
Only I couldn’t remember them.
Because the fucker could easily crawl up on me again and I wouldn’t know it.
Even here in this goddamn small town.
The early morning light had cast rays of pastel across the horizon, the rising sun creating a magical glow over the massive forest of trees.
While the view was spectacular from every window on the back of the house, what I appreciated about the property were the trees.
The house had been placed in a carved-out area of the property with enough grass and landscaping to add beauty to the property while allowing for full privacy.
The closest house was more than a mile away.
My father had chosen well, the setting, including the mostly hidden driveway, preventing tourists or unwanted visitors from just stopping by.
That didn’t mean the area wasn’t perfect for someone to lie in wait for the opportunity to strike.
While I knew Alexander had locked down any reference to the location of the house, I would remain on high alert.
As early as today, my presence in New Orleans would be missed, questions asked. Why did it feel as if I was a sitting duck? Fuck this shit. I wasn’t the kind of man to wait patiently for anyone.
A slight laugh bubbled to the surface, thinking about the stunning woman huddled under the covers of my bed.
The taste of her lingered in my mouth, sweet and succulent.
Even now, my cock ached as continued filthy thoughts rolled through my mind.
Somehow, in one night, Fleur had managed to awaken the beast.
I took a gulp of coffee, offering a moment of chastisement for daring to enter into even a single night of passion.
It had been reckless of me, careless to a point that I’d need to end it right now.
I shook my head, wishing the gorgeous view would offer me a clear head.
But it couldn’t. At this point, I wasn’t certain if anything could.
After taking the last swallow, I turned my attention to the stack of wood that still needed to be chopped into smaller pieces.
Maybe my intention on handling the chore myself was because Fleur had easily noted that I was the kind of man who paid for things to be done.
That hadn’t always been the case. My father had insisted his children learn basic skills including using a hammer and replacing a tire.
Fuck. Now I sounded like some whiny ass kid. My goal was to find the asshole and bring my own form of justice to the bastard. More important, I needed to expose his intentions. Whoever had issued the assassination order was a direct threat to our entire family.
As much as I hated to admit it, the Barishnikoff Bratva had just as many enemies as the Prince family.
If setting them up as the people responsible for the assassination attempt meant we’d mow them down like the mongrels they were, we’d be doing the work of eliminating the opposition for the real culprit.
Which was why prudent decisions on how to handle the situation were vital.
That didn’t mean I had to like the idea.
The anger continuing to furrow inside of me, I struggled through the snow, slamming the mug down on the oversized log someone had placed on end like a table. The maul was leaning against the large piece of oak, the huge chunks of firewood tossed in a haphazard pile.
Maybe I wasn’t the best person for the mechanics, but I refused to hire anyone else to do such a menial task.
Besides, getting Bart to the house would take some time and just before Fleur had fallen asleep, she’d mentioned that the house was frigid. Nothing a massive roaring fire couldn’t cure.
I tossed the cane aside, grabbing the maul and a piece of wood. I’d seen my father do this once or twice. How the fuck hard could it be? With a hard swing, I managed to drive the dull blade into a piece of wood, although the wrong one.
My patience was already being tested. I tried again, this time with more success, the piece splitting into two. Ragged as hell, but who cared? Maybe I could get the hang of it.
When I set my mind to something, I accomplished the task. That had been in my makeup since I was a kid. Today wasn’t going to be the exception. Piece after piece, I managed an eighty percent success rate. But it was the twenty percent that annoyed the fuck out of me.
Sweat was running down both sides of my face, the exertion entirely different than boxing in a ring or lifting weights. Soon, I yanked off my jacket, pitching it aside before continuing. I had no idea how long I’d been working, but at least the pile was getting bigger.
When I heard a sharp crack, I reacted without thinking, prepared to toss the maul at anyone posing danger.
Fleur’s eyes opened wide, at least at first, but there was no real sense of fear, perhaps amusement. “What are you going to do with that, beat me to death? Wouldn’t your weapon be more effective?”
I’d be goddamned if she didn’t have my gun in her hand, twirling it around her finger as if she knew what she was doing. Immediately, I tossed the maul, taking stiff but long strides toward her. When she playfully pointed the weapon toward my chest, I threw up my hands.
“You wouldn’t shoot an unarmed man, would you?”
She glanced around me, pulling her coat tightly against her shivering body. “You did have a weapon in your hand.”
“Guns are dangerous,” I replied, taking a step closer. She wasn’t budging, the hand holding the weapon steady.
“So are mysterious men.”
“I’m not mysterious any longer. Am I?”
Her laugh floated around me, the lilt like a sparrow. “More so than two days ago.”
“Why don’t you hand me the Glock?’
“Are you worried I’m going to hurt myself?”
“No, I’m worried you’ll shoot my balls off.”
The sly smile drew my attention to her rosy lips, kissed by the cold and swollen from the rough passion. “Now, why would I do that? They are very… useful.”
When I wrapped my hand around the weapon and her hand, she didn’t fight me, but as she’d done every time she’d come into contact with me before, she was questioning who I was and my motives. Maybe so was I.
“Maybe you won’t, but as I said, you can never be too careful.” I shoved the weapon into my jeans, enjoying the moment.
“You’re right. I learned that the hard way.”
Now she had me wondering what she was alluding to.
She’d found one of my jerseys, standing in that, a pair of my boots she’d snagged from my suitcase, and her jacket. She looked far too adorable.
Noticing my heated gaze, she pressed her hand on her stomach, smoothing down the material. It was far too large and covered way too much in my opinion. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Looks much better on you.”
She glanced at the wood, her brows furrowing together. “Are you cutting wood for me?”
“You did say it was frigid in the house.”
Walking past me, she grabbed my cane, holding it out for me. “That’s what blankets are for. You’ve only just begun to heal. Besides, you’re making the task much harder on yourself.”
“How so?”
Shrugging, she acted as if what I was doing was no big deal. “You need to stand further away. Plant your good leg forward and keep both hands on the maul.”
“How do you know this?”
My, oh, my, how her laugh sparked my body’s full attention. “I take care of myself because I have to. You’ll keep better balance if you follow my instructions.”
While her words did have an effect on me, she had no understanding of my life or the reality I’d been born into.
She was innocent in a world full of evil men doing terrible things.
Pulling her into any aspect of my personal or professional reality would only place her in harm’s way.
Yet the look of concern on her face was genuine, not anything I was used to experiencing.
The girl was the real deal, sweet and vulnerable while remaining resolute in refusing bullshit from anyone.
Tangible, amazing qualities that could easily be exploited.
Nothing about the deeds I’d been required to do since a young man could ever present themselves as being decent or even honorable, although my father would have argued the latter.
However, I wasn’t the kind of man to drag her kicking and screaming into danger.
At least not on purpose.
So I kept my answer simple. “Your words are coming from a place of compassion, but in my world, debilitating injuries are seen as a weakness and one I can’t afford.”
The way she was looking at me as if trying to pick her way through the complex layers was exactly what I would have anticipated. And in truth, everything a man could want in a partner. That couldn’t matter.